Falling
by RomansRoad
Summary: Sometimes it takes a brother to stop you from falling. Complete, finally!
1. Chapter 1

_So it took me a…long time...to get a story on here, considering I've been swamped with AP and all that jazz. The flood isn't over yet, but hopefully you guys like this one! _

_And all of the reviews on my last Thunderbirds story really made my day, thanks so much!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything, and since I forgot to put it on my last story, I don't own anything from "Broken Pieces" either. _

Virgil was aware of three things at this present moment. Number one: flipping backward over bags of sand did not feel very good. Number two: when your head met a steel pipe, your head got the worse end of the deal. Number three: how wide John's eyes had gotten when they both felt the floor give way beneath them.

Sitting up dazedly from where he lay beside the said steel pipe, Virgil blinked in an attempt to stop the room from spinning. He suspected he had only a minor concussion, as his head cleared fairly quickly. Standing slowly, Virgil saw where he had been shoved backwards over a pile of sandbags, and beyond that, a gaping hole where he had stood seconds previous.

What the scene lacked was Virgil's older brother. John was nowhere in sight. Feeling suddenly sick to his stomach, and not because of his head injury, Virgil jumped the sandbags and crept to the edge of the hole. Peering down, Virgil saw that not only had the fifth floor caved in, but so had the fourth, the third, and so on, pieces of flooring adding to the weight crashing down to the ground floor.

"John?" Virgil called out.

Silence.

"John, are you there?"

Nothing.

"Answer me, John!"

Not a word.

A beeping from his watch made Virgil start violently and almost fall through the floor. "Scott?"

"Virgil! You're all right! I tried calling John, but I didn't get a reply." Scott's voice was a mixture of relief and fear. "Where is he?"

"I'm not sure. We were standing together near the window when the floor gave, and he shoved me away before it broke completely. Scott—if he's al—ah, when we find him, there's going to be some serious work."

"What do you mean?"

"If my guess is correct, he fell through several stories."

Scott broke the link.

Virgil knew his oldest brother was not about to willingly display anything but total control while they were on a rescue, even to his brother. Glancing around, Virgil spotted a stairwell. He got to his feet and stepped carefully but quickly over to the stairs, and looking down, was pleased to see that they would lead him to the ground floor. It was only a fleeting feeling of joy—his concern for John overrode it rapidly.

His watch beeped again. Virgil barely had time to register what Scott said: "Be there in five."

Going down the stairs, the circular motion caused the dizzy feeling to arise again. It couldn't be ignored. Hating himself for stopping, Virgil collapsed to his knees and threw up.

He coughed and shivered involuntarily. Tears pricked behind his eyelids, which he swiftly blinked away, attributing them to the concussion. Trying to rise to his feet again, he dropped and retched again. Spitting in an effort to get rid of the horrible taste, he heard a knock and a bang as Scott kicked in the flimsy door that led from outside into the abandoned, flame-gutted building.

Virgil glimpsed his brother's creased forehead and tightening lips before he was once again forced to vomit. Scott strode over to him and knelt beside him, rubbing his shoulders. "You didn't say you were hurt."

"You didn't ask." Virgil grimaced at his tone and amended it. "I think it's worse than a minor concussion."

"I think so, too." Scott gazed around and saw the pile of rubble. "He's under _that_?"

"Pretty sure. Go help him. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

Scott nodded and trotted over to the pile. He wasted not a moment and began picking through the pieces, his brow furrowed and a determined look on his face.

Virgil got up and walked over to Scott, albeit slowly. If he passed out, he wouldn't be any help whatsoever. They worked together for a short while, both entirely focused on the task at hand. _A bit like a machine, _Virgil thought at one point.

Scott suddenly let out a strangled noise, and Virgil darted to his side. John lay still, an arm stretched out and bloodied. His face was scratched and bruised, and his chest didn't look to be moving at all.

Virgil bit his lip hard enough to draw blood as he cradled his brother's head in his arms. "John…Johnny…please don't be dead…"

_Now be nice when you review. _


	2. Chapter 2

_I couldn't help it—I was laughing like a little girl at the comments on the last chapter. I knew it was a risk doing that to John…although I suppose I've kept you in suspense for long enough. And thank you for the very nice reviews!_

_Also a special thanks to Fletty, who gave me a brilliant suggestion that I hope to be using soon!_

Shock. Pure shock.

Virgil stared down at his brother and willed John's chest to move. Memories leapt unbidden to the forefront of Virgil's mind. Memories of the quiet blonde always sitting and listening to his younger brother rant about how the teachers were so unfair, or talk about how Scott was suddenly not around much, or how nervous he was before his big piano recital. The years had long since passed, but Virgil saw and felt them as acutely as if they were happening right then.

John hadn't shown any annoyance every time Virgil crashed into his room, blowing up about how Scott was gone with his friends when he had said he would stay home. John listened, and offered advice as well as comfort. John had never been as good at knowing exactly what to say as Scott had, but there was something about the astronaut that was just as calming. John would talk in his soft voice about something seemingly unrelated, like how the stars and the planets were so far apart from each other that half the time, the fact that other celestial bodies existed was a distant thought, but for the rest of the time, the planets and stars knew about those other bodies, and knew how important they all were to the universe. Virgil had given his older brother a look that told John exactly what the artist thought of _that _logic, but now he understood.

All traces of dizziness vanished as Virgil placed two fingers on John's carotid artery in search of a pulse. The seconds ticked by…

* * *

><p>Everyone was safe. Scott knew that much. The trapped victims had been transported to a hospital by this time and would be receiving treatment. Staring down at his unmoving brother, Scott felt the slightest flash of anger at the people for being stupid enough to need rescuing. He quickly suppressed the feeling, as he knew it wasn't their fault at all.<p>

He knew the risks. They all knew the risks. But it didn't make this any easier. To have to search for a brother, or to sit and wait to see if the one you were close to would wake up with his mind still functioning, or wake at all, was as close to hell as you could get to on earth.

And it was John this time. Scott _hated _when it was John. On the rare occasions that their spaceman came out on a rescue with them, it usually didn't come this close to death. But why did it have to be John? Scott bit the side of his tongue fiercely. He was the protector. He was supposed to be there for his younger siblings.

John was so…John. So quiet and introspective, you forgot how much he suffered through when he was up in Thunderbird 5. He wouldn't say. Not usually. Scott had heard him only a select few times make known what was going through the astronaut's mind when a rescue was going on. "Sometimes I want to scream into my watch and make sure you're all okay. When long minutes go by and there hasn't been a word from any of you down on earth, it takes a lot to react professionally. Like when Virgil was shot down by the Sentinel, Scott. I heard you calling to him over the radio. It's like that. Knowing that your brother is in trouble, and you're powerless to do anything but call to him and wait for an answer. When one of your voices comes over my radio, it's such an immense relief. I don't know how to put it into words. In that moment, you just know that everything's going to be okay and we'll all live to fight another day."

Scott realized there was blood in his mouth. He let up the pressure on his tongue, and watched as Virgil felt for a pulse in John's neck. Tightening his grip on John's hand (he didn't know when he had grabbed onto his brother), Scott held his breath, waiting, hoping…

_Dare I ask for reviews?_


	3. Chapter 3

_Okay, I've had my fun, kept you guessing for enough time now. You've all been so wonderful with the reviews! Can't thank you enough, they all made me smile. So, enough chitchat, onto the story!_

Virgil moved his fingers ever so slightly. This couldn't be it…

A weak twitch beneath his fingertips.

Virgil stiffened and zeroed in on the spot on John's neck. He was afraid to push harder or move his fingers at all. A few seconds passed and Virgil began to wonder if he had imagined it.

But no. There it was again, a little stronger. Virgil laughed and let out a breath he had been holding for a while. Beside him, Scott gave a faint smile and spoke softly.

"Johnny? Can you hear me?"

Virgil moved his hand to John's chest, where his heartbeat could be felt more easily.

Scott decided to try again. "Wake up, little brother."

While it was true that John was definitely alive, Virgil didn't want his older brother to remain in his current position, half-buried by rubble. "Scott, will you run and get a neck brace? And maybe a stretcher…I can't tell if anything's broken yet."

Though his eyes betrayed the fact that he would rather remain with John, Scott released John's hand and stood quickly. He practically sprinted to the door he had kicked in earlier, and disappeared from view.

Virgil focused his attention on shifting the pieces of wreckage. Thankfully, the lightheadedness had nearly vanished, making his job a bit less difficult. Contemplating on moving a large section of ceiling panel off of John's leg, Virgil decided it was best left until Scott returned with the needed supplies.

Virgil began clearing off John's upper body, noting the many bruises forming and cuts that had been collected. As the younger man pulled a piece of tile away, John let out a yelp and tried to push himself away.

"Easy, John!" Virgil grabbed John's shoulders, forcing his older brother to stop thrashing.

John calmed down enough to the point where he was panting heavily. He whispered something inaudible to Virgil.

"I didn't catch that, Johnny."

Leaning in closer, Virgil caught what John was trying to say. "Hurts…stuck."

Virgil frowned. "I know you're stuck. We're going to get you out, you'll see."

John laughed softly, but quickly ran out of breath as a pained expression spread across his features. "No…my shoulder."

"There's nothing on your shoulder, Johnny." Virgil laid John's head in his lap to protect the elder from the sharp ruins.

"In." John opened his eyes and glanced at Virgil.

"In?"

"My shoulder."

Virgil looked. And registered a rather large piece of metal lodged in John's right shoulder. "How deep?" The medic didn't want to attempt to move the piece at all.

"Don't know." John sighed and let his eyes slip shut. "Virg?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm tired."

"Don't go to sleep on me, big brother."

"Okay." Fighting to open his eyes, John asked, "Did you get hurt at all?"

Virgil pondered on how to answer his brother's question. "Not really." Keeping John calm right now was the best option. Finding out that he had accidently given his younger brother a concussion would not help.

"How bad?"

"I said I didn't really get hurt."

"And you're lying. How bad?" John squinted at Virgil, making the younger laugh.

"You remind me of Scott when you make that face. You know, the one where he knows we did something and basically stares right through us until we confess." Virgil grinned down at John.

"That's nice." John yawned and appeared to struggle with the desire to lapse into unconsciousness. "But you didn't answer me."

"A concussion."

Eyes snapping open, John looked miserably at Virgil. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I can handle a concussion. Look at you."

"True."

Virgil raised his head and gazed around for Scott. "Was everyone else safe when the floor caved in?" John inquired.

"Yeah. There were some minor burns from the fire, but none of the injuries were too bad," Virgil said.

"Good."

Silence fell. Virgil didn't pay it much attention, as he was wrapped up in his own thoughts. This had been far too close for comfort. Studying the walls, he realized that the building had a very impressive structure—one that wasn't likely to catch fire on its own. He didn't even know how the fire started. Alan had only called in stating that five people were trapped on the middle floor of an office building. There was only one way the fire could have begun. Arson.

Scott burst through the door, his arms loaded. "Miss me?"

Virgil only rolled his eyes and looked down at the brother he held in his arms. "John!"

_I feel like I might get in a bit of trouble for this chapter…_


	4. Chapter 4

_I am having far too much fun reading the awesome reviews I'm getting. Thanks for all the support! And I'm dearly sorry about the delay—finals and AP exams this week had me busier than anything! _

John moaned and tried to turn his head away from the noise above him. But the persistent talking and taps on the cheek wouldn't stop, forcing him to finally open his eyes and see the worried faces of his older and younger brother above him.

"Don't go to sleep on me now, Johnny," Virgil said.

Licking his dry lips, John answered, "Trying not to."

John saw Scott beyond Virgil, looking like his usual in-charge self. It was strange, really, John mused. Scott always had to have it together. There was rarely a display of emotion, and if there ever was, it was typically Virgil who saw the most of it. John was only witness to a few meltdowns. Scott could be terrifying if he tried. Or sometimes if he didn't try. John liked to compare his older brother to a faucet with too much water pressure built up behind it. Only some of Scott's true emotions and feelings would trickle out at times, and then one day, without warning, the faucet would explode off the sink as the water pressure became too much. The problem would then be fixed for a time, before the cycle started over again.

It most likely wasn't the best thing for the pilot. But it was who Scott was, and he was the leader of the team. If it wasn't for the strong, unfailing leadership, John was willing to bet that a lot of rescues wouldn't have ended up as successful as they did.

John could relate. They both dealt with their feelings in silence. But the astronaut generally didn't blow up. He could handle it on his own. Usually.

"How are you feeling?" Scott asked, the concern only evidenced by the lines on his forehead.

"I've been better." John coughed and felt the pain searing through his body.

Both of his brothers clearly saw him wince. Scott set about unfolding and setting up the stretcher, while Virgil began fixing the brace around John's neck.

"Where does it hurt?" Virgil inquired quietly, as he studied the piece of metal embedded in John's shoulder.

"Everywhere."

Virgil managed a sort of smile that looked more like a grimace. John gave his younger brother a lopsided grin. Virgil was on the opposite side of the spectrum when it came to dealing with his emotions. Whereas Scott and John would be more inclined to spend time alone or in silence, the medic could be heard throughout the house when he was frustrated. Piano music would drift through the open doors and windows, starting out fast and furious, moving to a soft and often mournful tune, and then ceasing after a few uplifting bars. On other occasions, John remembered walking by a few paintings that could very easily have resembled a fire. Or a hurricane. He didn't understand. It didn't matter how angry or upset Virgil was; his art was always beautiful in some way, never looking like some five-year-old had had a field day with a blank canvas.

"That doesn't surprise me," Virgil muttered. "I think we best get you to Two."

He turned and glanced at Scott. The older pilot knelt down and pushed his hands under John's back, careful to support his spine. John was never able to quite comprehend Scott and Virgil's bond, but it was all right. Some things were like that. Best left alone, to be marveled at. Like space.

Virgil grabbed John's legs, and John felt himself being lifted up and over onto the stretcher. He clenched his teeth against a stab of pain from his shoulder.

"It's okay, Johnny," Scott murmured. "We'll have you sorted out soon."

John sighed raggedly and let his eyes slip shut. Everything hurt. Things were beginning to blur together. Scott's words sounded garbled.

He instead focused on the feeling of the uneven terrain as his brothers carried him back to Thunderbird 2. It was keeping him awake, at least. It would be so much easier to just fall asleep, though…


	5. Chapter 5

_Extremely sorry about the wait! Finals and celebrating the end of finals, enough to keep you busy for quite some time. Anyways, thank you for all the wonderful reviews and hopefully you like this bit!_

"He's falling asleep again," Scott observed.

Virgil looked. "It'll be all right. We're almost to Two now."

They made their way up into the belly of the green behemoth. "Okay, right here should be fine." Virgil nudged one of the beds in the medical bay of his 'bird.

Working quickly but gently, Scott lifted John carefully off of the stretcher and onto the bed, while Virgil clattered around in the storage closet and pulled out what he needed.

"It's probably a good thing that he's asleep for this part." Virgil fingered the sleeve of John's uniform for a second before deciding that his best bet was to cut the bit of cloth away, granting easier access to the large piece of metal. "Tell Grandma she's got work to do."

Scott nodded and watched as Virgil examined John's shoulder. "Hold him down, will you?" Virgil asked.

Opting for pliers to accomplish the job, the artist noticed his oldest brother still hadn't moved. "Now, Scott. The longer this takes, the worse off he's going to be."

Scott jerked suddenly, as if out of a trance, and placed one hand on John's collarbone and the other on John's right hand. There was no missing the nervous look in his eyes though.

"Scott?"

"Just hurry up and get it over with already!" Scott snapped.

Raising an eyebrow at the angry and vulnerable tone that accompanied his big brother's statement, Virgil nevertheless obeyed and gripped the metal with the pliers. He swiftly and skillfully removed the piece, causing several things to happen at once.

John yelled and attempted to push himself as far away from Virgil as possible, but upon realizing he was pinned, delivered a punch into Scott's gut. Scott grunted loudly and coughed, releasing John's shoulder in favor of grabbing the fist that was now beating him in the chest. "John!" he yelled directly into the astronaut's face.

John's eyes opened wide and he froze. If it weren't for the seriousness of the situation, Virgil would have found it difficult not to laugh. Scott held John to the bed, searching his younger brother's eyes, both of them barely breathing. John grasped Scott's wrist weakly in his left hand and smiled slightly.

Scott let go and straightened. "Right. I'm going to check in with base. Be back."

He left, Virgil noting how stiff his movements seemed. But that wasn't the medic's main concern at present. He pressed a wad of cloth against the now-seeping wound in John's shoulder.

"That's deep, Johnny."

"Mmhmm." John was clearly awake, but in a drowsy state. It was probably the best for his physical and mental state.

Virgil grabbed a hypodermic and filled it with a local anesthetic. "Going to stitch it up, okay?"

John nodded. He didn't really have an aversion to needles.

Virgil emptied the syringe into John's arm, letting it numb the entire area as he found the thread and needle he needed.

"Relax now."

"No worries." John looked very out of it.

As he disinfected the wound and began stitching it, Virgil let his mind drift. It was second nature now, tending to his injured brothers. Not really a good thing, in the sense that it happened often enough for it to become second nature, but good in that the pilot was so skilled in assisting his brothers. He'd have to take a look at Scott later. No doubt John had left some sort of a mark; the punch was impressive by itself, let alone coming from the quiet brother.

This was a stupid rescue. Virgil wasn't sure what he thought of himself as the notion crossed his mind, but at the moment, all he could think of was how stupid the rescue had been. It was arson. Not IR's business to go searching for the culprits, but if Virgil happened to be at the right place at the right time, and well-informed…

He was probably aggravated because of what had happened to John. No. He _was _aggravated because of what happened to John. If the fire had started on its own, then it was all fine, but considering the evidence pointing to arson, Virgil saw the rescue as a spiteful and dangerous game someone was playing. And it was bound to be the rescuers who would suffer the brunt of it.

It had started out simply enough. A call from Five, where Alan was residing for the next month after being cornered by a few irritated older brothers. A fire had broken out, five people were trapped and unreachable because of the weak ground (why had an office building been erected over an old mine was anyone's guess), and the heavy equipment of the local fire department wasn't fit to rescue the people. It should have been an easy rescue.

Nobody was counting on the extensive tunnel system of the mines. Or the propane tanks in the cellar. Only the structurally-sound walls of the basement had prevented total collapse (only the few top levels of the ten-story building had been shaken off) once the fire reached the tanks. It was still a miracle. Virgil didn't understand the science behind that incident, and most likely never would. That was all right with him.

But the flooring had been weakened. He should have assumed that and gotten out of the building quicker. John wouldn't have had to shove him out of the way then. They both would have been safe. Hopefully.

Virgil tied the end of the stitch and cut the thread. He bandaged John's arm, in the process waking his brother from a stupor.

"Are you done?" John rolled his head over so he could view his arm.

"Almost. Tetanus still."

"Ah." John focused on the ceiling panels of Two. Virgil didn't blame him.

After finishing with the injection, Virgil asked, "Hurt anywhere else?"

"Not sure. Too tired to think."

"Oh, Johnny."

John wrinkled his nose slightly, and then fixed Virgil with a penetrating gaze. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you all view me as the weak one?"

Virgil paused, and then said, "What do you mean?"

"Don't avoid the question. You guys tend to treat me like all of this air pressure down on earth might make me implode, and you have to be careful not to let that happen."

"You're hurt right now."

"I don't mean now. And I don't mean you guys do it all the time, but you do it a lot more to me than to anyone else."

Virgil frowned, considering. "I guess you're just our astronaut. Our not-corrupted-by-this-world type guy. You're not exactly an extrovert, John."

"True."

"I suppose we act like that because sometimes, we're not sure how to tread around you. Moreso than the rest of us. You can be completely silent for days and be okay with that. Doing nothing but reading and staring at the stars, and observing. You're always observing. Maybe that's why we don't act as unruly when we're with you. You and Scott. You're both like that. You can see right through us into the heart of things. There's no point in being anything but exactly how we're feeling, because you'll figure it out real quick. And maybe there's also the fact that we enjoy being quiet with you sometimes. It's nice. It makes you stop and think about things more. At least that's what I think."

Virgil looked at John, who seemed to be pondering his words.

"Well-played, little brother."

Virgil grinned.

_Okay, so now are you happier with me? More to come! And thanks for sticking with me!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Sorry this took so long…no excuses. _

Scott hovered just out of view of his two younger brothers. He was far enough away that he couldn't hear their conversation, but could see every action that was happening.

He didn't need his brothers to see how upset he was. He didn't need them to see the disappointment he felt after he had allowed one of them to get hurt.

Resting his head against the cool metal of the doorframe he was standing by, Scott allowed all of his emotions to come crashing down on him. He shut his eyes and felt the exhaustion sweep through his body in waves. It was to be expected, really. The multiple surges of adrenaline he had during a rescue could only last for so long before the high ended and he came crashing down into cold reality. Reality was usually all right. It was these select occasions when a brother was injured that reality was a real blast of cold air.

He opened his eyes and left Thunderbird Two. Looking around at the mess surrounding the building, he sighed. The cleanup after a rescue was always the worst part. There wasn't much that could get his thoughts off of what had just transpired, so Scott was left to replay the rescue over and over in his mind's eye.

_Stupid rescue._

But it wasn't anyone's fault.

_It was still a dumb rescue._

You wouldn't be saying that if John hadn't gotten hurt.

_Maybe. Maybe not. What if Virgil had fallen? What if they had both fallen?_

Don't be glib. You know how rescues can turn out.

_Of course. Is that supposed to make this easier?_

John's going to be fine.

_He'd better be._

He was feeling schizophrenic at the moment, apparently. Scott picked up the remainders of their equipment, some pieces still warm to the touch. He carried them to Thunderbird One, watching appraisingly as her smooth door slid open to grant him access to the inside of her belly. She was the most beautiful of the five 'birds. He didn't care what John said about Five.

_John. John's still hurt. He fell through so many floors of that building. I should have been there with them. But I couldn't have been there, because I was busy with the last of the victims. That's not an excuse, I still—_

Fortunately, a pang from his stomach stopped his rush of thoughts. He smiled to himself. John certainly could pack a wallop if he wanted to. Scott decided the next time he was required to hold his immediate younger brother down, he was going to keep as much of his body clear as he could.

Putting the equipment away inside One, Scott frowned suddenly. Why had he come out here in the first place? He told Virgil something and then left. Scott didn't even remember what had come out of his mouth; he just knew he needed to get out of there right then so he could collect his thoughts and be the leader they needed.

A noise outside made Scott jerk to attention. He froze and listened. Footsteps. Definitely footsteps. Quiet ones, too. Like the person was trying to sneak somewhere. It wasn't Virgil then. Virgil didn't sneak. Or rather, couldn't sneak. It was funny when he tried, though. He sounded like a moose crashing through underbrush.

_Focus, you moron. _

The footsteps continued, but they were now accompanied by a trickling sound. Scott warily padded up to the door of One and peeked around the corner. There was a man in a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, with the hood pulled up over his head, facing away from where Scott peered out of the doorway. The man was holding a canister of something and was spilling liquid out of it on to the ground surrounding the two Thunderbirds.

_How the heck did that guy get past security?_

Scott ignored that thought and inhaled through his nose, eyes opening wide as the scent of the fluid hit him. Gasoline. That guy was pouring gasoline.

_No kidding, Skippy._

Scott tensed as the man pulled out a box from his pocket. Matches.

_Enough standing around._

Stepping lightly out of his 'bird, Scott crept noiselessly—he could sneak better than any of his brothers, except for Gordon—toward the guy until he was within a few feet.

"Bad idea," were the only words that left the pilot's lips.

The man whirled around in surprise, only to be felled by a solid punch to the chin.

"I would have done that if you hadn't."

Scott jumped. Virgil had come down out of Thunderbird Two and was standing a dozen feet away with his arms folded across his chest.

There was something about the way Virgil stood that suggested to Scott that the two would need to speak more after they arrived back home.

"He was going to light this place up," Scott said, glancing down at the prone figure by his feet.

"Just like he did with the building."

"How do you know?"

"I doubt there were two arsonists in the same place."

"True."

Virgil walked over and knelt down by the man. Pulling back the hood, Virgil squinted up at Scott. "This guy look familiar to you?"

"Haven't we seen him on the news? He's got a record a mile long for trying to set fire to various government buildings, most recently the attempt on the Bannister Federal Complex. They got his picture, but they never got the guy."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

"What is he doing out here?"

"Setting things on fire, I guess."

Scott picked up his radio and summoned a police officer. "Bring a pair of cuffs with you, too."

Within minutes, the officer arrived, and gaped openly at the unconscious man on the ground. "I'm so sorry," he said to the two Tracys as he fixed the handcuffs around the man's wrists. "I have no idea how he got through security."

"It's all right. He probably knew what he was doing," Virgil answered.

Scott nodded, but he wasn't really interested in the conversation any longer. He just wanted to go and see how John was.

The officer departed shortly after, hauling the arsonist along with him. He was aware of the gasoline surrounding the Thunderbirds, and had put the fire department on alert for the fires that would most likely start after the two aircraft fired their engines and took off for home.

Scott was aware of the stench of gasoline in the air, and Virgil's light breathing beside him.

Virgil kicked a rock loose with his boot. "Did you talk to Base?"

_Oh._

"Um…no."

"Didn't think so. You were way out in space. Been taking lessons from John?"

_John. Is he okay? Ask Virgil, he's right there. _

"Scott, let's go home."

_That's a good idea. But I want to see John._

"Scott?"

_Just ask Virgil_.

"Bro, you okay?"

_Ask him, he'll let you see John._

"Scott. Look at me."

_What are you waiting for, you idiot? Ask him!_

"Scott."

_ASK HIM!_

"SCOTT!"

"WHERE'S JOHN?"

He hadn't meant to yell his question so loudly, so passionately, so fearfully. He hadn't meant to yell, really, either.

Apparently Virgil had guessed. He took Scott's face in his hands and swiped away a tear with his thumb.

_When did I start crying?_

"He's okay, Scott. Come on. He might be asleep, but you can still see him."

Scott followed Virgil wordlessly into Thunderbird Two's medical bay. John was indeed asleep beneath the pile of blankets covering him, but he looked peaceful. Beaten, yes, like someone who had fallen stories into a basement, but peaceful. His chest rose and fell, breathing deep and evenly.

Laying a hand on John's hair, Scott let out a sigh of relief. He turned and gazed at Virgil, who was watching the exchange with a slightly tilted head and a penetrating look in his eyes.

"Virg?"

"Yeah?"

"Let's go home."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yep, you can scold me for how long this took. Again, I'm very sorry for the wait!_

_Also, the Bannister Federal Complex is in Kansas City, MO, and is government owned. I'd advise looking it up, because it's rather difficult to explain! Think non-explosive parts of bombs. _


	7. Chapter 7

_The final chapter! I'm sorry that this took so long, but I will finish it like a good author…cheers to this story, it kept me awake many nights thinking, "I should finish that at some point…"_

After bringing Thunderbird Two down for a gentle landing, Virgil ran through his post flight checks and darted down the medical bay. John was out like a light and didn't even stir as Virgil entered the room and sat down beside the bed.

A creak of metal flooring sounded behind him, and Virgil half-pivoted to see Scott standing stock-still, illuminated from behind by the lights in the hangar. "How is he?" Scott croaked, looking mildly taken aback at the loss of his voice.

"Sleeping. Good for him, though, he needs as much rest as he can get right now."

Virgil felt Scott's eyes on him as the medic checked John's vitals and tugged at a couple of the bandages. The intensity was almost tangible. "Something you'd like to say, bro?"

Scott mumbled something.

"Can't hear you."

"Why do you think the guy selected that building?"

Virgil highly doubted that that was what Scott had originally said, but decided against forcing him to speak his true thoughts. "He's an arsonist who targeted government buildings? That was probably a government building. Ask Alan, he'd be able to tell you."

"I'll ask him later."

"That all that you're thinking?"

"Is it ever?"

_Trust him to answer a question with a question. _But there was a high degree of truth in the inquiry. If men were task-oriented, then Scott was a man who had an endless supply of tasks to be oriented by. The man never stopped thinking, or moving, for that matter. He had patience for a game of pool or chess, and even then he would bounce a knee up and down, or wander back and forth when it wasn't his turn. He and Gordon shared that trait.

John was a different matter entirely. Virgil didn't enjoy playing chess with his star-loving brother very often, because John could sit and study a board for hours on end before he would choose a piece to move. He would look at one piece for a moment, and then lean back and observe the entire layout of the board, and how everything could be affected by that single move. He was a big picture person, but at the same time, saw the minutest details. When they played billiards, John would strike the cue ball and usually could call every other ball that would be hit. This was typically when some profound statement would be made about every action having an effect, even if it wasn't seen. Maybe he had a bit too much time alone. But it was who John was.

It was a good thing Scott had been born first, and John had been the second child. They had their leader and their thinker in the family right away. If it had been the other way around, Virgil believed there might have been a fair amount of chafing between the eldest and second-born. This way, there was action, and there was support of the action. Harmony.

Trust him to bring it back to music.

"Have you told Dad yet?" Virgil asked, breaking off his stream of thoughts.

Scott nodded. "I told him on the way back home. He didn't seem exceptionally worried after I assured him you were both fine."

"He'll be down here soon then."

"Naturally."

They sat in companionable silence for a few moments, engaged in their own pressing thoughts.

"You should go shower." Scott said at last. "You're a bit…messy."

"Tell that to John."

"I will when he wakes up."

Virgil leaned forward and wiped a smudge of dirt off of John's face with his thumb, smirking to himself as he realized how coated they both were with ashes from the burned-out building. Gazing at the dark smear on his thumb, Virgil was reminded of a bruise. He glanced up at Scott. "How's the stomach?"

Scott flinched. "He left a mark."

"Big?"

"Bigger than my fist."

"Impressive. John has smaller hands than you do. It must have been a really good hit."

"You pay attention to our hand sizes?"

Virgil frowned in contemplation. "I guess I do. It might be a pianist thing." It was a pianist thing. He would always find himself studying people's hands when he had nothing else to do, imagining what it would be like if they put their fingers to the ivory keys of a piano. What kind of music they would play, whether it be the melodious sound of a Bach symphony or the jazzy swing of Duke Ellington. He'd never seen the need to question his thought process.

"I think I need a nap."

Virgil cocked his head in surprise. The great Scott Tracy had admitted he was tired. Maybe they had been running around for a long while.

"I could join you in that idea."

"Wünderbar," Scott answered, using one of his favorite German words he picked up a few rescues ago. "Let's get John up to the infirmary, and call it good."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Falling asleep is the only falling I'm interested in."

Scott bent and picked John up like he would a small child, and they left Thunderbird Two.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Voila! It is done! Perhaps I will be sticking to one-shots for a while, we shall see..._

_A bit more of a character study than I was planning, but hey, we'll go with it._

_And a very, very, VERY huge thank you to all of you who stuck with me for the entire thing!_


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